Flowers For Jessica
by Gwendolynn
Summary: Despite everything, James is pretty content with what he has in life: love, friendship, freedom, and more. That is, until he discovers a pamphlet stowed in Jessie's belongings that leaves him yearning for a future he never even considered before now. In the process, however, their budding relationship is fractured. Established Rocketshipping. In progress.


**Notes and stuff: **Slightly AU, but to what degree depends on how you interpret the ending. In this timeline, Ash's journey after Kalos follows the games' releases, with ORAS preceding SM, and as a result, Team Rocket have found themselves tailing him through Hoenn yet again. The title's similarities with the Daniel Keyes novel are purely coincidental, I swear. It was the in-progress title for so long that I didn't have the heart to change it.

Rating is for language, adult concepts that will be touched upon later and a (very lame and very tame) disjointed sex scene that's only crammed into this chapter for storytelling purposes.

Bracketed numbers will refer to the footnotes at the end.

I've little experience with writing in present tense, so if I've made any silly errors, please please _please_ let me know, and I'll edit accordingly when I post the next chapter. Thanks, and enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter 1****: Unsettling Background Radiation In A Major. (And Everything Was Perfect.)**

* * *

If there's one harsh truth that James has learnt in all of his twenty-six and a quarter years, it would be that the world will not treat him any kinder just because he tries to be a good person [1].

Of course, if he is ever to voice this thought aloud, Jessie will likely chime in with something along the lines of: "Nonsense. Life has its ups and downs, but being a whiny little bitch will get you nowhere [2]." Even so, her words will be falling on deaf ears. She can harp on about persistence being the key to success and all that until the miltank come home to pasture, but to James, nothing will convince him otherwise. Not out of pessimism or self-pity. It's just something he has silently accepted as being his lot in life. He can be a saint to every pokemon he comes across, he can say his pleases and thank yous, and he can donate to every charitable cause on the planet, but at the end of the day, he'll still be launched into the sky by a band of preteens.

Nor will any of these deeds do a thing to make his girlfriend voice her love for him, change her mind or soothe the pounding currently thundering through his head and down to his lower back.

A couch designed to seat two people rarely makes for a comfortable place to sleep, which applies to people who spend the majority of their slumbering hours in an actual bed. James and his partners do not fall into this category, which is perfectly _fine_, but at least they don't regularly pass out on top of hardest decorative cushions known to humankind. He pulls the pillow out from under his back and throws it into the far corner of the cabin lounge room. Something else falls with it to the wooden floorboards, but he doesn't care to investigate. The open window above him invites a warm, ocean breeze into the room, parting the curtains just enough for a beam of morning sunlight to spill across his face. He squints his eyes shut and angles his head to the side, but neither action does anything to relieve the throbbing tearing apart his frontal lobe. James groans.

_Wait. Headache? Why do I-?_

The overwhelming smell of fermented jaboca berry [3] wafts in his direction on a zephyr, invading his senses and thoughts. His eyes follow the scent to the coffee table, where an uncorked bottle of Shabboneau Gardens Syrah [4] sits with a quarter of a serving remaining.

_Oh. Well, I remember pouring myself a couple of generous glasses of wine, but not…_

Cursing under his breath, he sits up from his makeshift bed, grabs the bottle and inspects the label. It takes his brain a few seconds to catch up with the momentum, and his vision eventually lines up enough for the text on the bottle to become legible enough for him to read.

_Eight and a half standard drinks?_ [4]

He must have been downing the stuff like water. Water he must have deemed unnecessary last night, and this was all on an empty stomach. But what is he doing on the couch? And why was he even drinking in the first pla-?

A hint of burning pancakes and Jessie's faint humming catch his senses, sending last night's events hurtling out of his memory vault and to the forefront of his mind.

_Of course._

James is contemplating crawling into what would surely be a now-vacant bed when another result of last night's binge-drinking presents itself: his parched mouth demands any kind of liquid before all else. After all, if he is to somehow find ibuprofen and pop a couple, there's no way he'll be able to dry swallow anything with his throat in its current state. Still, he sits there, reluctant to move and even considers downing the remaining mouthful of wine, but amends his previous thought. _Almost_ any kind of liquid.

The sound of a running tap underlines Jessie's humming before it is turned off again.

Water. Yes, that's what he wants. Granted, he'll have to face at least one of his partners, but he'll cross that bridge when he gets to it.

_Okay. On the count of ten._

He grimaces.

_One..._

Despite their consistent failure rate in certain areas, Jessie, James and Meowth have slowly, but steadily, been regaining favour with Giovanni after the disaster that was Johto. He must have had some quiet hope for the team hidden beneath his seemingly permanent scowl, and just as well: tailing Ash and his ragtag group of friends have taken them to regions no team had thought to cover before. As Field Agents, this has earned them a comfortable niche that The Boss seems satisfied with for the time being. While their ability to send through any actual pokemon continues to leave a lot to be desired, the team's collective and individual strengths lie elsewhere. The discovery of mega evolution during Ash's journeys through Kalos has led him back to Hoenn, where he has been invited to learn more from Steven Stone, who has a keen interest in rare rocks and stones. By proxy, James and his partners have been able to uncover further details on not just one, but two rival teams, and their field reports containing further observations on the potential of mega evolution have provided Team Rocket with invaluable knowledge. Their efforts were paid for handsomely. Usually these monetary incentives are awarded for handing in rare pokemon, turning in research or intel on other crime syndicates. The team collectively guessed that the basis of Giovanni's reasoning would definitely not be the first.

When it arrived during the following pay cycle, James honestly didn't care much for the bonus that cushioned their usual base salary. He, of course, has been guilty of using the word 'summer' as a verb, possessing four middle names and making wild stabs in the dark that don't do a thing to conceal his lavish upbringing ("How much could a kilogram of regular bananas possibly cost? P4000[6]?"). The praise, however... That was nice. While his partners were overcome with joy when their employer shared with them news of the monetary reward, James was still revelling in the feedback on his report writing; a far cry from Giovanni's usual emotionless stance. In all his years, he's only received that kind of positive reinforcement from a very small pool of individuals, two of which he sees on a daily basis.

Still, money is money however he looks at it. Jessie and Meowth made the joint decision only days ago to spend the next week anywhere with running water and electricity that doesn't involve sleeping on the ground, and staying in a cosy budget holiday cabin seemed to satisfy them enough. Located on the outskirts of Lilycove City, it overlooks the southern shoreline and is comfortable walking distance from the downtown area while being remote enough to hide their meowth balloon. Upon checking in, Meowth was pleased at the change of scenery and an opportunity to prowl the streets at night, and Jessie pocketed all of the complimentary toiletries she could find. James, though, was simply content with the comfort and privacy to enjoy his girlfriend's company to the fullest in their downtime. All in all, a rare victory for the trio.

_Sevennn..._

* * *

_Unexpected good news is still good news nonetheless. This notion, however, didn't do a thing to calm his heart. In fact, he was concerned that the organ in question was beating with such an intensity that it would explode into confetti, coating the aquamarine tiles in every shade of his elation. A warm, yellow radiance had embraced the bathroom and enveloped him, its source not solely the light overhead._

_His hands were trembling, not out of fear or anxiety or rage, but a different wholly positive emotion that he couldn't quite place. It was as if someone had taken all of James' most precious thoughts and multiplied them by millions, to the point that it filled every conceivable crevice of his insides, threatening to overflow into the bathroom. He folded the pink pamphlet with care and slid it back under Jessie's cosmetics bag where he had happened upon it minutes ago. All thoughts of the moisturiser he was initially searching for vanished, having been trumped by this much more fascinating discovery. He turned off the bathroom light, and while the yellow glow disappeared immediately, warmth still danced along his skin and in his heart, making him almost dizzy. Opening the door, he found the cabin dark, faintly illuminated by a lamp in the bedroom on the far side of their accommodation. James decided against trousers and fought against the desire to skip down the hallway._

_Thankfully, his girlfriend, his partner, the love of his life and bringer of such wonderful news, whether she intended to or not, was seated on the edge of the double bed, wearing a short satin chemise and studying a map. Pausing for a moment, he soaked in the sight of her elegant profile. A delicately sculpted collar bone, her long alabaster neck, the angular slopes of her jawline, the gentle curve of her nose, slender wrists; she was everything he could ever truly want in a person. There were some mornings when he'd wake up next to her and count himself lucky that this was the timeline he was living in, where he threw caution into the wind just over a year ago and his confession had paid off in ways he wasn't even expecting. Others, he would lay there with her hand in his or his skin against hers, and he could have sworn he was dreaming._

_Yet, here she was. There was no other explanation other than this being blissful reality; one where James belonged to Jessie, and Jessie belonged to James. Admiring her from metres away wasn't enough, and James wanted to do nothing more than take the redhead into his arms and share his joy, but he hesitated._

_What were _her_ plans? Was he ever meant to know? Was she even going to tell him?_

_Still._

_He pushed these thoughts aside. There was very little that could squash down either his sheer happiness or raw, concentrated love for the woman before him._

_On the lightest of footsteps, James approached her and, in one quick motion, plucked the map from her with one hand and held her shoulder firmly with the other, causing her to yelp in surprise._

_"James! You scar-" Jessie started to say, but her words were interrupted by his mouth on hers, and to James, the feeling of those petal-soft lips against his caused his every sense to blossom. The floral fragrance she'd applied behind her ears earlier that day; the silky texture of her skin beneath his fingers; her fluttering breath against his cupid's bow; the way she tasted sweeter and sweeter with each kiss; he welcomed all of these and more to overcome and embrace him._

_One second had barely passed before she melted into his touch and returned the kiss with equal passion, parting his lips further apart with her tongue. He didn't need to push into her shoulder at all before she gave in, sliding her legs onto the bed and threading fingers into his hair. Her tongue explored him, running along his bottom lip before sliding back into his mouth, and he returned the favour with a need that couldn't be quelled. Reclining onto the bed and coming to a rest on an elbow, she took him with her, pressing on the back of his head and breaking the kiss. As they pulled back from each other, their eyes fluttered open in unison to soak in the other's face. He could stare at her features for aeons, but his entire being hungered for the rest of her, to fulfill that intoxicating effect she had on him and to fall for her all over again._

_Parting her creamy thighs with a knee, he gripped her side, massaging the concave plane of skin that spanned from her jutting hip bone to her toned abdomen with his thumb. His lips made contact with her again, only this time, he yearned to taste her neck. A breathy moan carrying his name passed his ear, telling him that he found that wonderful sweet spot that made her writhe under his touch every time without fail, and he crushed her torso under his, pinning her to the bed. She caved into the force instantly, her gasps telling him wordlessly to continue teasing her and, in turn, the rest of her body. One hand found his, and sinewy fingers knotted between his own, while the other hand slid up his back and came to a rest between his shoulder blades, pressing fingertips along his spine. An ankle coiled its way around his as he moved lower, moving her chemise strap aside so he could access her collarbone, where kisses were trailed along to the nape of her neck. Groaning, she arched her back to press as much of herself against him as she could, grinding her hips against his as she did so. James felt the sudden desire to devour her visually and propped himself up on his elbows to take her in._

_He watched as her lips framed a heavy, yet delighted sigh, then curled into a charming grin. "Oh, hello," she said, amused. "What's gotten into you?"_

_"I love you," he spluttered, the words tumbling out, partly by reflex, partly because the feeling behind them had long overflowed. He wouldn't have been able to contain them, and that's even if he wanted to at all. James would willingly scale any mountain just to proclaim his love for all to hear._

_Her eyes danced in the low light, but she remained tight-lipped, even as he beamed down at her before planting a light kiss on her forehead. When he pulled back, it took a moment's pause for her to meet his gaze. As she did, though, she smiled apologetically._

_As was the norm. He didn't mind, though; he never did. He had everything he could ever hope for cradled right in his arms, and that was all that had ever mattered to him. The tips of his hair grazed the side of her flushed cheeks, causing her to turn her head to the side with a light chuckle._

_"Please tell me you bought wine."_

_"Your favourite."_

_"You're an absolute darling."_

_"I know," said James, his lips brimmed to the very edges with pride._

_"Oh, shut up," she snorted, coupled with a laugh. "After that, I _definitely_ I need you inside me." And she meant it, he realised, when the hand on his back had long descended and fingertips squeezed his arse roughly. When he inhaled sharply in a wispy gasp, Jessie's eyes narrowed in an almost predatory hunger, daring him to continue what he'd started. He wanted nothing more, but..._

_His voice hitched as fingers crept their way to the front of his underwear to wrap grip his erection._

_"M-Meowth?"_

_"He's out doing liaising with the locals. He'll likely be out until well past midnight," she said with a casual air to her words as she kneaded him through the fabric, eliciting a groan from him. "And before you ask, my pokeballs are on the kitchenette."_

_Excellent. They definitely did _not_ need distractions of the blue, patient variety._

_His thoughts were interrupted by her catching him mid-thought and flipping him onto his back. Her hands were suddenly planted on either side of his head, her thighs straddling his narrow hips, and his own hands were acting of their own accord now that he could freely access her body. They slid up the sides of her torso in parallel, along a slender ribcage and to their goal, her chemise draped on his wrists and exposing millimetre by millimetre of tantalising skin. She bit her lip and threw her head back with a moan as his fingerpads and palms rediscovered the shape of her moon-white breasts and rosy nipples all over again._

_James handled her with a care that contrasted Jessie's insatiable need. The former was sure that if his partner had things her way, she would have demanded that he take her from behind with a fistful of her hair while she howls the filthiest things, and he'd be ejaculating ropes of cum down her throat by now. Despite it all, she showed uncharacteristic restraint and settled with grinding herself against his erection as he travelled her body with hands and eyes. A shuddering gasp hit the air as he squeezed a firm breast and whispered that he wanted her. At these words, she shed her chemise completely and leant in to share a brief kiss._

_It was his turn to be feasted upon, he realised, his heart in his throat, as her hands explored the contours of his chest, his stomach, the wonderfully sensitive skin of his abdomen, with the caresses of her lips in their wake as she worked her way lower and lower. She pulled down the elastic of his underwear with deliberation so slow it was almost torture, releasing his full length at last, and made eye contact one final time. What were normally blue eyes appeared almost black, their pupils fully dilated with lust._

_Holding the gaze, she enveloped the tip of him with her mouth and slid her lips down._

_The sweetest of pleasure took him and refused to let go._

* * *

The number ten passed at least a minute ago, and he's still not on his feet. Whatever tune Jessie was humming is now being ad-libbed upon, and eventually rounds back to repeat itself. James swears he heard the waltz playing on loop in the downtown area only last night. [7]

Regardless, hearing the same melody being murmured over and over begins to stab at his eardrums, intensifying his headache, and sitting on the couch with his face in his hands won't do a thing to make it stop.

He groans. It's time to stand and do _something_ to start his day. His knees buckle with discomfort as he finds his footing, and on sore legs, he somehow carries himself to the combined kitchen and dining room. Standing in the archway with his shoulders slumped forward, he squints into the morning light let in by the open curtains to find both of his partners already awake and either preparing or eating breakfast. Meowth has taken the wise route and chosen to settle with buttered toast, leaving Jessie to battle it out with the stovetop.

"Good morning," he croaks, not surprised at how weak his voice is. At this, Jessie cuts the tune short, leaving an awkward near-silence in its wake. Her last note in F-sharp is sustained, somehow amplified by the absence of sound, despite her having stopped her humming mid-bar moments ago. Unsettling Background Radiation in A Major, an arrangement by James Morgan. Or maybe it's the uncomfortable ringing now occupying his head. James isn't sure. He isn't sure which he prefers now, Jessie's incessant murmuring or a quiet so profound it's turned into a symphony in his ears.

Beyond wrinkling her nose in displeasure, Jessie ignores him, something that James finds somewhat out of character for someone who would usually be eager to pick a fight over the pettiest issue. He chances a look at her. Even from this angle, her profile seems to have sharpened overnight; the upturned tip of her nose, her chin, her furrowed brow. A collection of harsh angles with tapered corners, all crowned with unkempt hair arranged into an off-centre bun. She can sense his eyes on her, he realises, because she squares her shoulders and tightens the muscles in her neck. Before she can turn a pointed glare at him, however, he redirects his eyes.

Meowth must have noted the tension the moment James even entered the kitchen, because he's already busying himself with his newspaper, shaking it open, arranging the skewed pages and squinting into it. "You'd better take da reins on dese pancakes, Jim, or we'll be using dat bonus and den some ta cover some extensive fire damage," he says, whiskers still buried in the newspaper.

Jessie is the first to respond. She edges to the side, turning her back to him completely, switches on the exhaust fan above the stovetop with a grunt and takes a generous swig of coffee. Keeping her attention fixed on the overcooked breakfast in question, she shifts her weight onto one hip and leans into the benchtop lazily.

He purses his lips and narrows his eyes at the cat, but is instead met with the front and rear pages of The Wailord Times.

Not wanting to deal with a sour Jessie or hear more unsolicited commentary from Meowth, James fetches a glass tumbler, forgoes filling it from the kitchenette sink and instead wanders straight to the bathroom. A turn of the tap later, he drains the glass in one go. Water. Finally.

He doesn't even need to inspect his reflection to know that he looks as terrible as he feels, but he flips the light switch and turns his hard stare to the bathroom mirror anyway. With bloodshot eyes, dry and cracked lips, and dark crescent moons lining both sets of his lower lashes, looking almost purple in the light, he exhales a heavy sigh through his nose. Perfect. Just bloody wonderful.

Meowth's voice trails in from the next room. "I already told youse. We don't _have_ maple syrup." Despite the cat's words, James hears the telltale signs of a frantic search through the cupboards.

Only last night, the same overhead bulb gave off a warm, incandescent glow that matched the heat in his chest and cheeks. Now it seems so artificial and almost lifeless. Even the jovial tiling has taken on a much duller sheen than they once had. Spying Jessie's cosmetics bag on the counter, he considers pinching some concealer to smear over his dark circles, but comes to a pause when he notices the corner of a pale pink pamphlet poking out from under it. The pamphlet that started it all.

Jessie's enraged howl pierces his ears, causing him to cringe.

_She started it._

No, they both started it.

_Why did I read it?_

Well, why _did_ he read it?

Sheer curiosity? Eh, maaaybe? It's not like Jessie doesn't rummage through his belongings looking for whatever on a near daily basis. Either way, she definitely knows that he's already at least skimmed its contents, especially if last night's ensuing discussion and her attitude this morning are anything to go by.

_No worse can possibly happen if I just take the stupid thing and actually read it in full_, he thinks to himself, pinching the corner and pulling it from under the cosmetics bag. He stows the pamphlet into his rear pocket. Not even bothering to check his appearance again, James draws another glass of water and takes in as much as he can in a single gulp, sets the tumbler down and staggers out of the bathroom.

* * *

_She was absolutely divine to his every sense. As soon as he had positioned his head between her thighs, he became delirious with lust by her taste, the light scent of her arousal, the heat radiating off her body, the soft texture of the folds lining her most intimate area and so much more._

_Fingers found their way into his hair to caress his scalp with her nails, while her other hand clenched at the sheets. Her squirming thighs and feather-light moans encouraged him to continue dining on her exactly as he was, and he had no complaints. James was sure that he could eat Jessie out for hours. Days, even. This worked wonderfully for both parties; cunnilingus was his favourite act to perform on her, and it took a lot of pleasing in a specific way for her to reach climax._

_Despite the latter fact, little time had passed before her whimpers told him that she was close and pleaded him to finger her. He obliged, sliding in one, then two digits of his free hand to enjoy the sensation of her hot, moist tightness contracting around him while his tongue and lips pleasured her._

_Her ensuing orgasm struck them both without warning. While she squeezed his head with her thighs and arched her back with a drawn-out cry that descended into a string of desperate mewling, he felt her walls flutter around his fingers. What followed was a pressure within her that tried with everything to pull him further into her warmth and soaked his fingers with the sweetest juices he knew as he eased them in and out. He always marvelled at how she could become incredibly wet with desire yet have such a strong grip on him, creating such a delightful contrast._

_Her legs relaxed, releasing him and allowing him to free his fingers. As he licked them clean, she was coming down from her high, blue eyes locked on him, her chest heaving and her arms splayed out on either side of her. Her skin coated in sweat, she smiled weakly. He returned it one hundred-fold and crawled further up the bed to join her as she recovered, his lips meeting hers._

_When he broke the kiss, her voice was breathless. "Let me ride you."_

_"Jessie, give yourself a -"_

_"Please." It wasn't a question or even a request. As she continued, she attempted to roll over and prop herself up onto her hands and knees. "I _need_ to."_

_Locks of hair sticking to her flushed cheeks and forehead, her legs gave way underneath her, and she fell onto his chest. He pulled her into an embrace and gazed into heavily lidded eyes while she fought to suppress a yawn. Her heartbeat drummed against him at a steady rate._

_"Oh, Jess… Just rest with me for a bit."_

_"Only if you promise to let me start _and_ finish on top."_

_Honestly, he would have been happy with anything as long as he got to have her. Hell, he would have taken her right that moment if there wasn't a chance that she'd protest._

_"Deal."_

* * *

If blackened to a crisp and under-cooked on the inside is how she prefers her breakfast, then Jessie has cooked it to absolute perfection. Al dente. Whatever. He casts hazy eyes onto his partners; she's now seated at the dining table across from Meowth, tearing into one charred disc of a pancake while slathering a generous serving of butter onto the next.

"You sure you're not eating for two or t'ree dere, Jess?" If James' arms could reach and he wasn't already walking on eggshells around his partner, he would consider throttling Meowth. Instead, he settles with leafing through the handwritten rough draft of a report sitting on the kitchenette.

From the corner of his vision, she shoots the cat a murderous glare and holds it while defiantly chewing the rest of her mouthful.

He clears his throat.

Jessie slams down her cutlery at the sound, whips her head in his direction and, upon seeing that the bathroom has been vacated, stands up. She shoulder barges James on her way in and slams the door behind her. Her partners wince in unison.

"What's got her knickers in a knot?" Meowth says, deeming it safe to lower his newspaper and turn his attention to James.

"Beats me," James lies.

"_Women_," chuckles the cat, more to himself than anyone else. "Just be glad we only have ta deal wit' one."

Remembering how well sound carries through the cabin, James decides to change the subject to anything except the woman occupying the bathroom. "Was there a bag of berries somewhere this morning when you found that newspaper?"

"Youse mean _dis_ newspaper dat I found in a pile by da bedroom door." The Wailord Times in question is laid down flat onto the dining table as the tone of the cat's words form more of an accusation than a question, and James is fixed with a pointed look. "Meowth took da liberty of fixin' it."

So, that's a _no_ to the whereabouts of the berries he purchased yesterday, then. He was hoping to rub some crushed up rawst berry on his inkay's burn. Another salty breeze meanders in through an open window and grazes his face.

Fresh air. Yeah, that'll be nice, too. Maybe some coffee.

He pulls on the first clean black uniform shirt he can find, with Meowth's call of "You're _welcome_!" following him like a bad smell. Deciding against wearing his white overshirt in favour of a jumper, he heads for the front door, draining the rest of Jessie's black coffee down his throat on the way. Cold and bitter. Figures.

"Where are _you_ off to?"

"Out."

He considers also slamming the front door behind him to prove some kind of imaginary point, but can't bring himself to. Instead, he closes it with the careful consideration he always does.

* * *

_The mane of hair cascading off her shoulders and down her back._

_The subtle bounce of breasts as she rolled her pelvis against him._

_The curve of her torso as it tapered seamlessly to her hips._

_The unrestrained moans of delight that peppered her words._

_The way she would lock eyes with him and run feather-soft fingertips along his body._

_He was so drunk on her entire being he had feared he would climax the moment she slid down his length in one agonisingly slow movement, giving her tightness a chance to adjust to his size. Given that Jessie had fellated him to the very brink of completion before pulling away with a sly expression only a short while ago, it was a matter of minutes before his climax began building again._

_"Where do you want it?" _[8]

_In lieu of a verbal answer, she leaned down to catch his lips in hers and kissed him with a raw, desperate roughness. Her hips came to rest against his, and instead of sliding upwards again, ground into his pelvis in a circular motion, her walls pulling his length deeper into her._

_"I'm so close," he whispered in her ear when she pulled away to ease her pace._

_"Eeeasy, tiger..."_

_"Jess," he whimpered. "Please…"_

_She gave a light giggle and a breathy moan in response._

_"Jessie? Where do you me to-" He was cut off by his own groan of pleasure._

Stomach or mouth?

_Sprayed across her flat midriff or down her throat. Jessie, of course, always preferred to swallow, providing none of it got in her hair. "It's easier to clean up," she would say, but he knew she enjoyed it just as much as he did. James, being the incurable romantic he was, never did mind where he finished, as long as he was with her._

Stomach or mouth?

_"Please… Where?"_

Stomach or mouth?

_She moaned and squeezed one of her breasts. He reached up to place his hand over hers. His other pressed against the small of her back as she rolled her hips._

_"In me."_

_"...What?"_

_"Come inside me," she said, coupled with a gasp and a flick of her hair over a slender shoulder. She looked down at him through long lashes and added, "Please, James." Her breathing had become ragged and heavy, punctuated with whimpers and moans._

_His brain didn't have a chance to process her words in full, and he crossed a physical threshold where he couldn't turn back._

_By reflex, one hand grasped her hip in desperation, and an elbow was thrown around her neck, pulling him a near-sitting position and her face exactly where he wanted it: as close to his as possible. His forehead pressed against hers, he held her against him as stars clouded his vision and her name spilled from his mouth over and over. What felt like the entirety of his tactile sense rushed to a single point to unleash inside her, and for a few brief moments, his entire body felt numb yet at the same time, completely overcome with euphoria and the most wonderful physical sensation he'd ever experienced. Helpless and vulnerable, but in full control. Mentally vacant, while feeling as though he was thinking with one hundred percent clarity for the very first time. Everything just seemed to suddenly _make sense_._

_He loved her. He was going to..._

_James' thoughts were interrupted by her body collapsing in a sweaty heap on his chest. Jessie leant in to kiss him, sweetly, gently, briefly. Rolling to the side, she slid onto the sheets, her torso pressed against his side, forehead against his collarbone and fingers intertwined with his._

_He loved her so much with his entire being, with everything he had._

_"I love you," he whispered._

_The reply was almost instantaneous, but faltered mid-way._

_"I lo-… I know."_

_His heart skipped a beat. Squeezing her shoulders just that little bit tighter and sinking a cheek into her hair, he smiled. _

_In that moment, everything was perfect._

* * *

**More notes and stuff: **So. Chapter ooone. What _did_ happen last night to strike a divide in Jessie and James' relationship? What's the big deal with the pamphlet? Will they make up? I'm sure you can probably already guess what the dealio is, because I'm not that great at being discreet, but please feel free to stick around for the next chapter to confirm or dismiss any suspicions.

Footnotes**  
**[1]&[2] I forget from where I stole the general meaning behind these words. Probably Reddit or something. Just know that I'm not this wise or, in the case of [2], not as elegant with my words.  
[3] For context, a jacoba berry is the variety that closest resembles a bunch of grapes.  
[4] To those from Australia (like me) and other regions of the world, Syrah is known as Shiraz, a nice, full-bodied red wine. France calls it the former, according to the internet. Kalos draws parallels with France, so it... kind of makes sense?  
[5] So, it turns out this is defined differently throughout the world. Eight and a half roughly equates to your average 750mL bottle of red.  
[6] I don't know about the rest of the world, but your average everyday kilogram of bananas will set you back only around AUD$3.50. The amount in JPY (which is the closest real world parallel to pokemon currency I could think of) that James guesses is... a touch over AUD$50.  
[7] You likely already suspect this, but Jessie is humming the Lilycove City theme from RSE. The first piece of sheet music I came across is in A Major.  
[8] Yes. Jess and Jim, being the lovable fuckwads they are, use the tried and true pull-out method.

I'll try to edit the rest of the chapters (this is one of four, so it's not terribly long) and upload them a fortnight at a time or so, depending on reader feedback.


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